


A Friend in Need

by Celandine



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: Abortion, Female Friendship, Gen, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4290300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire is in trouble. <i>Serious</i> trouble. Allison's the one she turns to for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend in Need

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me during yoga class. Go figure.

"Crap, crap, _crap_ ," Claire whispers. This is _so_ not fair when they only did it once.

The pale blue cross on the stick stares up at her in mute confirmation that her worst fear has come to pass. It's the third test she's taken over the past week, hoping that the first two were false positives, but after three she has to accept the truth.

Claire crumples up the box and wraps it together with the stick in toilet paper before burying it in the trash. She wishes she could get rid of the thing inside her—she refuses to think of it as a baby, or a fetus, or even an embryo—that easily.

Getting rid of it is all she wants to do. Erased. Gone. Never happened.

There is no _way_ she is going to tell John. She doesn't know if he would be pleased or angry or scared or what, but she knows she doesn't want to deal with whatever his reaction is. She's going to college next year, to Bryn Mawr where her mother went, and she knows that John won't be part of that future. They'll probably break up before then anyhow. Six months is more than she ever expected it to last.

But what now? Claire ticks over the list of her friends and realizes that there isn't a single one of them that she can go to for help, not for this. Liz, Denise, Heather—they'd all be sympathetic, yes, but as soon as she hung up the phone or left the room, the word would go out and the whole school would know: _Claire Standish is knocked up._

She can't handle it alone, though. Briefly she considers talking to her sister, but Diane and Claire have never been close, and anyhow Diane lives in Boston with her almost-new husband.

Claire paces around the room. She punches the Play button on her cassette recorder and the Psychedelic Furs blare out. Not what she's in the mood for. She fast-forwards—it's a mix tape—and listens to "Shellshock" by New Order instead. Much better. She throws herself on her bed and her gaze rests on the pale green walls, covered with posters of her favorite bands and actors and movies. Samantha from _Sixteen Candles_ wouldn't be in this situation; her big problem was a not-actually-unrequited crush on good-guy Jake. John is nothing like Jake and Claire is nothing like Samantha, though, and Claire has to figure out what to do.

She pulls her diary out from the nightstand drawer. It slips from her hand and falls face-down on the floor, crumpling several pages. When Claire picks it up to smooth them out, she sees a name.

_Allison_. That's who she can talk to. Maybe. At least she can be sure that Allison won't spread the juicy news around school. Claire reaches for the pink princess phone and dials.

For a wonder, Allison is home, not seeing her therapist or out somewhere making one of her ink drawings. She listens to Claire's wail and says she will come right over. In less than an hour she is in Claire's bedroom, which is pretty quick for Allison considering that she has never bothered to get a driver's license and walks everywhere, or sometimes rides an ancient black bicycle with a unicorn sticker on the rear fender.

"You're sure?" is her first, practical question.

Claire nods. "I took three tests."

"And you don't want it."

That _isn't_ a question. Allison may be weirder than anyone else Claire knows, but she's not dumb. Not at all. Claire nods again.

"Planned Parenthood, then. We'll make an appointment. I don't know if they'll do it then or if you have to go back..."

"Whatever," Claire interrupts, eager to get on with it.

"...or how much it costs," Allison finishes.

Claire has a checking account. She mostly spends the money her father gives her on clothes and shoes, jewelry and makeup, but there's always plenty left. "I can cover it."

"All right. Where's the phone book?" Allison dials the number. Claire listens while she talks, although mostly it's "uh huh, uh huh" as Allison scribbles things down in her sketchbook.

"Next Tuesday, at one," she says after she hangs up. "You'll have to cut afternoon classes."

If she gets detention... well, better detention than not getting this situation dealt with as soon as possible. "Okay." Claire swallows. "Allison."

"Mm hm?"

"Could you come with me?"

"Of course." Allison sounds surprised.

The clinic is a little beat-up looking, but that's actually reassuring, Claire thinks. Real people come here. She fills out the forms they give her and follows the nurse into the back.

It's all over sooner than she expected. She is relieved to see Allison afterward, looking as out of place as ever in the waiting room.

"I'd better drive," says Allison matter-of-factly, holding out her hand for Claire's keys. "It's an automatic, right?"

"You don't have a license," Claire says, but she feels crampy and woozy and hands over the keys without further objection.

Allison drives quite well, although Claire doesn't really care at this point. She gives Allison an embarrassed smile when they get back to Claire's house and inside. Her father isn't home from work yet, thankfully, and her mother is away having one of her regular "rest cures."

She curls up under the Laura Ashley bedspread and Allison tucks her in, then laughs. It's not a mean laugh, just a laugh, and Claire manages a smile in return.

"Thanks, Allison."

"You're welcome." Allison bends down and gives Claire a hug. "Any time."

"I hope never again," says Claire.

"Yeah." Allison hesitates. "It was John's, right?"

Claire slowly nods yes, feeling the tears she never thought she would shed over this gather in the corners of her eyes.

"You did the right thing. Really. But it's okay to be sad," says Allison. "Call me if you need to talk about it later."

"Okay," Claire says.

And she will.


End file.
